


Banging For Roof

by Wireslide



Series: Fifty Ships [7]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Body Worship, Characters are fifteen, Hunk thinks he is straight, M/M, Nick is James Griffin, Oral, light hand fetish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-16 20:38:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16961091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wireslide/pseuds/Wireslide
Summary: Lance needs a place to sleep and offers Hunk a trade.





	Banging For Roof

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written as part of a 50-50 challenge.
> 
> This takes place their first year at the Garrison, which makes them fifteen.

He looked up as a shadow darkened the doorway. “I know, I know, the whole wing can smell the bleach, I promise I've got the window open and it'll go away soon, I just spilled it when I was making the mixture for scrubbing the--” He caught his breath as he met the deepest, most drowning blue eyes he'd ever seen. “Uhm. Sorry. H—uh. Can I help you?” He gathered enough of himself to look the rest of the newcomer over, and felt his stomach lurch. “Oh holy shit, you're Lance At-” He pressed his lips together to keep from babbling at the tall, skinny Cuban in his doorway, but he didn't miss the easy smile that the Garrison's best pilot was aiming his way.

“The bleach smell's not that bad in the hall, actually,” Lance told him, in a voice that made him think of honey being poured on a sunny day, “it's kinda bad in here because you have the fan aimed inward instead of out the window for a decent flowthrough.” He gestured to the fan by the window, stepping around where he knelt on the floor to turn it around.

“Careful, there's--” He could feel a small part of his soul wither and die as the Garrison's best pilot in training stepped in the puddle of vomit he was cleaning up. “Oh my god I am so sorry--”

“Please don't say that,” Lance interrupted him hastily, grimacing as he toed off his shoes and carefully stepped free of the mess in his stocking feet. “Taking the Lord's name in vain, I mean. I'm...Catholic. Sort of. I'm getting over it. Sort of.” He hopped onto the perfectly-made bed, then turned his head to pat the pillow. “Hey, do you not have a roommate?”

“Yeah I, uh. Sorry. Sorry about the—I didn't mean to offend you. I'll stick to 'gosh.' Uh. Yeah, uhm. My last roommate couldn't deal with my stomach issues.” He frowned a little, looking down at the mess he was cleaning up. “My last four roommates couldn't. I guess Personnel has just stopped trying at this point.” He could feel his shoulders slouching, and brought them up with a bright smile, turning his head to give Lance a flash of it. “Anyway! What are you doing here? Can I help you with something?”

Lance gave him another of those slow, easy smiles that made part of his brain question his sexuality. “I was wondering if I could crash in here with you for the night, actually,” he flopped back, testing the pillow with his head by bouncing it a few times, “I mean, since Personnel hasn't filled the space.” He rolled onto his stomach and offered a grin, the wicked gleam in his eye making the other teen desperately wish the room didn't smell like cleaner and vomit. “I promise I'll make it worth your while.”

He started laughing, sitting back on his heels and setting Lance's messy shoes on a paper towel while he cleaned up the bulk of the mess and threw it in a bag. “Do you regularly hit on people over piles of vomit, dude?”

“Nah,” Lance's thick sweet tone didn't change at all, “actually you are absolutely the first guy hot enough to make me power through it.”

That stopped the laughter pretty quickly, and brought a flush to the heavier teen's face. “Uh, yeah, sure. I'm Hunk, by the way.” He braced himself for the laugh, the snide joke, the typical reaction he'd gotten since he'd come to the mainland for school. Instead, he felt a sudden press of heat against his back, and long, skinny arms settled around his middle.

“You damn sure are,” Lance told him quietly, giving him a hug, and Hunk was surprised at the ferocity in his voice. “It's a traditional Samoan name, right?” His tone switched right back to that warm honey, and Hunk felt that voice down his spine. “I had an auntie who had a three day layover in Pago Pago once, she said she was never so tempted to not come home.” He released Hunk to let him continue with his cleaning, content to leave his knees on either side of the larger teen from behind.

“You actually know,” Hunk noted quietly, ducking his head to hide his smile, “you know how often I get laughed at and told 'in your dreams, maybe'?”

“Apparently often enough that the garbage-ass white boys in this hall don't need any of their teeth,” was Lance's completely unruffled response. He lifted his eyebrows politely when given a surprised look over Hunk's shoulder. “Hey man, just because you're too much gorgeous man for them to fathom doesn't mean they should be assholes. Insecure douchebags.” He aimed the last comment out the door and into the hall.

Hunk couldn't help the laugh bubbling out of his throat. “They're all at lunch, dude.” He focused on cleaning a little bit more, then sighed. “Uhm, you are a really good looking guy, don't get me wrong, but I'm like, hella straight. Aggressively straight, even. But!” He grimaced down at his gloved hands as he shoved soiled paper towels into a garbage bag. “You have the guts to hit on me while I'm cleaning up vomit, and I figure I shouldn't knock things 'til I try 'em. Right?”

“Plus I'm really good at it, I promise,” the skinny teen shrugged with a grin.

“I mean, you don't have to--”

“Dude, I'm not a leech.” The defensive edge on Lance's tone made him lift a hand.

“All right, all right. Like I said, I'm willing to give it a shot. You can stay no matter what happens.” He sprayed the cleared spot with the bleach mixture, scrubbed it back down, then reached for Lance's shoes.

“Dude,” Lance wrapped the shoes in a length of paper towel and shoved them into the garbage bag, “they aren't even mine.”

“What--”

“I stole them from Nick down the hall because he doesn't know how not to be a dick.” Lance gave him a grin, then tied the garbage bag closed. “Come on. I am so not blowing you with a bag of vomit in the room, or until you wash your hands.”

Hunk rose to his feet in one smooth motion, returning the grin. “Both halves of that are fair,” he agreed, following Lance outside and down the hall towards the 'large trash' cute, “but uh. What did Nick do that deserves his shoes getting stolen and thrown away? And...why would you steal someone's shoes just to throw them away?”

“Almost broke my nose with his pelvis and convinced himself I was choking on his tiny little dick,” the skinny teen rolled his eyes and gave Hunk a flirty grin as the larger cadet held open the door of the chute for him. “Plus, when he registers for replacements, the loss of the last pair get marked on his record. He fucks up enough, Distribution'll put a note in his file that he's careless with his personal gear.”

“Dude, that's cruel,” the Samoan grimaced, “but also like, I'm not all that versed on stuff but I've at least watched enough amateur porn that I know that permission for a blow job isn't the same as permission for a face fucking.” He paused, then shrugged as he helped Lance stuff the bag down the trash chute. “And we-vid tutorials with sex workers.” He shut the door behind the bag and shrugged again at the long, thoughtful stare from the drowning blue eyes. “I like to know all the details about consent, just in case.” He half-mumbled it, looking away awkwardly.

He was unprepared for the suddenly enthusiastic way that Lance linked their arms together, or the bright smile that left his hormones reeling. “Let's get those hands washed before you get any more friggin' perfect,” the taller teen hummed, “because right now, I swear on my bones, all I wanna do is suck yours out through your dick.” They all but raced to the bathroom to scrub up to their elbows—Lance was done in an alarming span of time for someone who was so thorough about it, and turned to help Hunk before he dried them.

He had no idea that handwashing could be so intense a ritual; what he did a dozen or so times a day without thinking about it beyond basic hygiene was a totally different experience with Lance's hands guiding the motions. It was like a two minute manicure; Lance showed him the angle to use his thumbnail to clean under each of the other nails, the right way to use the soap to push back his cuticles, and when the water was off he patted them both dry instead of scrubbing roughly at the skin with the paper towel like Hunk always did. Then he reached in his pocket and pulled out a small tube of hand lotion, and Hunk tugged his hands back. “I've got better,” he promised with a smile, “c'mon.”

Lance looked intrigued, following him back to his room and blinking at the brown glass jar he held up in triumph. “It's body butter that my mom makes,” Hunk explained with a smile, taking off the lid and filling the room with the smell of coconut, “it's boiled down coconut milk and a little _talie_ oil. I got stretch marks really bad when I was growing, so she started making this to keep my skin soft.” He offered the jar to Lance, who dipped a finger in and scooped out just enough to moisturize himself up to his elbows. He then spent a moment just smelling his hands and swaying slightly on his feet.

Busily rubbing his own bit into his skin, Hunk missed the look of raw lust that Lance gave him as he lifted his head, but he couldn't miss when the taller teen closed the door with his foot and sank to his knees in front of him to settle his hands on his hips. The larger cadet fumbled with his hands as though he were holding the jar even though he'd already set it down. “Uh, hokay, woah, wait,” he touched the side of Lance's face hesitantly and was relieved when the skinny teen sat back on his heels. “Is it weird if I kinda wanna like...kiss and stuff first?”

Lance's head swam a little, but he felt his expression melt into a smile, and he rubbed his cheek against Hunk's fingertips. “Totally okay,” he agreed, “but can we kiss lying down because I absolutely have a head rush.”

“Can you make it to the bed?” The genuine concern in Hunk's tone brought Lance halfway up, and he grabbed hold of the larger teen's belt as he started to swoon. “Woah! Hey—here.” Hunk guided him down to the spare bed; Lance's arms locked around his neck and pulled him down half on top of the smaller cadet. “Waugh!” Laughing, Hunk made himself more comfortable beside Lance and shook a finger in his face. “You're a faker, huh?”

“No, really got dizzy from not enough blood above my shoulders,” Lance told him rapidly, then buried his face in Hunk's chest. “Fuck. Sorry. You've obviously never done this before and I've gone all weirdly intense and awkward. You're just...like. You're super hot and I'm having a hard time not just creeper-humping your leg.” He felt the soft chest against his face curl away, and lifted his head to see Hunk pulling his shoulders in and staring resolutely sideways at the pillow. “Hunk?”

“You don't have to do that, you know. Compliment me. I know what I look like.” Hunk jumped a little as Lance reached up to cup his cheeks.

“Holy fuck you really don't,” the Cuban gave him another of those sunny-day smiles, “you see what stupid assholes yell at you and you've let their voices leave a tattoo on your brain. Can I—let me tell you what I see.” He grinned at the small, uncertain nod. “Okay. Just--” he slid his hands up, carding his fingers through Hunk's thick black-brown hair and sighing at the texture loosely curling around his fingers. “You have,” he dragged in a breath, and the smile he gave Hunk this time was more genuine than before, “the kind of hair that people think of between their fingers when they think of putting their hands in someone's hair. It is soft and thick and so smooth it almost feels wet, and it's just long enough to grab hold of if you start to get rowdy.” His smile tipped up a little higher on one side, and Hunk took the hint after a second, pushing his thigh forward a little against Lance's hips.

The small catch in his breath would have been undetectable if they hadn't been curled so close, and Hunk felt a small surge of pride. “You have eyes the darkest brown I have ever seen, dude,” the Cuban continued, drifting his thumbs under Hunk's eyes delicately, “and when you smile they get these bright amber bits in them like honey down the side of a stone jar.” He tipped his head to keep Hunk's gaze when the larger cadet would have dropped it, and returned the slightly bashful smile with one of his own. “Yeah, like that,” he hummed, dropping his eyes to the smile in a way that made Hunk feel light-headed even though they were lying down. “And your mouth...”

He was silent for almost ten seconds, Hunk counted. He was about to ask if Lance's blank stare was an indication of a stroke when the skinny teen dragged in a heavy breath and snapped his deep blue eyes back up to Hunk's. “I could write a thousand sonnets to your mouth in every language I know and the words still wouldn't do it justice,” he sounded confused, but Hunk pre-empted the emotion by pressing their mouths together.

The kiss was awkward and sloppy at first, but once the teens got into sync with each other it evened out. Lance poured his surprisingly earnest feelings about Hunk's mouth into exploring it; he pressed smaller kisses to the corners and nibbled on the wide curve of the larger teen's lower lip until Hunk huffed and grabbed his head to hold his face still. Lance tasted like coconut curry and guava lip balm, and his hair was soft and fine against his palms when he buried his fingers in it. His tongue was as full of nervous energy as the rest of him, flitting from spot to spot, dragging along the side of Hunk's one moment and away the next.

Hunk huffed again and leaned back, squinting at him. “Are you having, like, a panic attack?”

Lance blinked at him several times, then laughed and buried his face in Hunk's chest again. “I am. So sorry, dude. Are you cool with skipping the kissing because like, I can't reconcile how damn pretty you are with like...anything.”

“Dude, just stay the night, you don't have to--”

The skinny teen interrupted him with a brief kiss, pushing himself up and onto his knees before scooting back and gesturing that Hunk move into a more central spot on the mattress. Once he was between the Samoan's knees, he set himself to working off Hunk's belt. “You look confused,” he noted, the tip of his tongue held between his teeth as he worked.

“I mean, if it's just for a blowjob, can't you just pull it out the front?”

Lance looked up at him from under the curve of his brow. “Have you ever had an erection while your dick was through your zipper, Hunk? Lemme just repeat the key word in that sentence: zipper.” He snapped his teeth, smirked when Hunk's eyes went huge and he nodded meekly, then hissed a soft, “victory!” as he managed to get the buckle apart. The button was open in an instant, and the zipper down just as fast. He hooked his fingers in the waist of Hunk's pants and gave him a little grin. “Hips up, big guy,” he whispered, and Hunk found himself obeying that warm-honey voice before he'd consciously registered the words.

The air in the room was a little chilly on his half-hard dick, but Hunk was convinced that Lance could warm it back up with the look he settled on it alone. He vaguely heard the Cuban whisper something in Spanish, but before he could ask for a translation he felt the pressure of overly hot lips against the base of his shaft. It sent a jolt of fire up his spine, and he buried his fingers in that soft, fluffy hair with a heavy exhalation. He would have sworn if the fire hadn't seized his lungs momentarily. Instead, he felt his hips give an upward jerk and Lance's chill fingers dug into his hips to hold them down with mildly alarming strength.

He was starting to relax, to get used to the way those heated lips were pulling little twitches from his cock, and he could feel his mind drift a little as he stroked Lance's hair. Occasionally he felt the soft brush of Lance's cheekbone against his growing erection, and let out a slow, shaky breath at the fuzzy ideas that skipped through his brain. He gripped Lance's hair a little more tightly and twisted his hips.

He wasn't sure what he'd signaled but apparently it meant 'scald my dick with your burning hot tongue,' in Lance-speak. He almost pulled away, but Lance's fingers held him steady again, and he gasped for breath raggedly as the skinny cadet curled his tongue up and down the length of his shaft. His hand tightened in Lance's hair, jerking his head up when he felt some of the soft strands come loose between his fingers. “Oh shit, I'm sorry--”

Lance lifted his head with a little grin. “Dude, if the worst thing that happens while I have this—legitimately unnaturally—perfect dick in my face is losing a little hair, I'm good.” He turned his attention back to Hunk's length, the huff of his sigh cool against the wet skin. “Also I think I ate a stray piece of your body butter.”

“It feels weird to rub it in do—ah!” Hunk couldn't stop the reflexive spasm that followed Lance's lips wrapping around the tip of his cock, but the skinny Cuban moved with it, preventing a satisfying thrust into his mouth. Hunk didn't have time to be ashamed of the choked whine that caught in the back of his throat. Lance worked his mouth toward Hunk's pelvis with excruciating slowness, rolling his eyes up to look at him when the Samoan buried his fingers in his hair again.

Hunk tried to hold the heated stare, but his head fell back when Lance's chin brushed his balls and the skinny cadet swallowed. He vaguely heard a groan that sounded like it came from down the hall and twisted his fingers more tightly in the other teen's hair. He could feel Lance's tongue again, like a wet brand sliding up and around his length, flicking against the tip and pushing under the foreskin. He felt the barest brush of teeth before Lance dropped his head and swallowed again, which dragged another distant moan against his ears.

He vaguely realized it was his voice he kept hearing, but his entire world had disconnected and was only held in place by the soft, fluffy hair around his fingers and the searing mouth covering his shaft. He couldn't stop the shallow thrusting of his hips, or the sudden burst of curses tripping over each other out of his mouth when he felt Lance swallow again and the muscles of his throat contracted around the thick tip. One hand released Lance's hair to grip the bedspread in desperation while every muscle in his body quivered with the effort of not pushing harder against the tight sensation.

His ears started ringing when one cool hand released his hip to cup his balls and lightly press the tips of Lance's fingers behind them. The skinny cadet's thumb lightly rubbed over the delicate skin of his scrotum as he squirmed, desperately trying not to buck his hips at the scrape of nails from the other hand across the back of his thigh. He couldn't hear his own voice any more but he felt his mouth move and assumed he managed to vocalize his frantic need. At least, he hoped so, because about then he felt the most amazing vibration curling up Lance's throat and setting stars bursting in his eyes. He could feel his body tensing and shaking, and tried to tug on the skinny cadet's hair to warn him as well as he could manage.

He wasn't sure if it worked, because he blacked out as he came down Lance's humming throat.

When he came to, the Cuban was putting a toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste on the desk beside the spare bed, and shot him a smile. “You okay there, man?” He asked brightly, as though nothing strange had happened.

Hunk blinked slowly, wet his lips, and accepted the bottle of water that Lance immediately handed him. After he drank, he sighed and levered himself up on his elbows. “Holy shit, dude, you are alarmingly good at that,” he breathed, then shook his head, “but, uh. I'm still kinda weirded out by the fact that you're a dude so yeah, still aggressively straight. Bros?” He sat up the rest of the way and offered his fist. “You can stay here for as long as you need, no strings attached.”

Lance laughed and bumped their fists together, then picked up Hunk's shorts and underwear off the floor and handed them over. “Sure thing, dude. Thanks. I'm gonna go brush my teeth.”

 


End file.
